War Book 2009

             War Book

Can you think,

Can you fantasize

A war that breeds and feeds itself,

Never ending, vengeful, inventive;

Vengeance, counter…



You can’t, I’ll bet –

Unless you’ve been there.

© War Book 1.21.2009

War Book; Our Times, Our Culture;

Arlene Corwin

The War

The War

I thought that I’d record it:
The war. The year.
Two thousand three;
Twenty days into month three;
Iraq, USA.
I haven’t awfully much to say,
The war so very far away,
Yet in my living room informed:
Fires, explosions, deserts stormed;
Flashes, missiles seeking heat;
Commentator’s chat, chat, bleat;
Weapons meant for mass destruction;
Money aimed at reconstruction:
And we watch,
Sitting snugly on the couch,
Knowing in this very hour
Humans of all ages cower
In their shelters under house,
Like the roach and rat and mouse;
Helpless and exposed as group,
While we’ve just finished up our soup.
Miles away the Alpha troop
Awaits instructions.
I peculiarly unmoved,
Unable to connect the pictures
On my set with what sits proved:
The dead, the wounded and the maimed,
The pretty greens where guns are aimed;
Flash explosions in the night,
Blown-up buildings in their site:
Hoped deferred, and fright and woe;
And yet the war is like a show
They’re showing God-knows-how,
That’s going much too fast to swallow
Or digest.
The rest
I’m still not feeling.

© The War 03.3.20
Our Times, Our Culture;
Arlene Corwin

Nobody Wins In A War

Banal, self-clear, cliché
And tautological to say:
To right a wrong
It cannot pay to kill the young.
A Mozart or Copernicus
To never impart genius
To put more light our way
Because he’s decimated at age six.
No one wins when cities burn;
Limbless people can’t earn
Livings begging
minus leg.
The stomach churns at all the loss:
Planet beings turned to dross.
Any nincompoop can see
That one less creature
Dead too soon,
Changes flows. The sun and moon
And angels cry,
And so do I.

Nobody Wins In A War. 00.11.16
Our Times, Our Culture; War Book;
Arlene Corwin

Global Situation

Global Situation


And all around;

Mass fleeing,


By wars


By us –

There has

To be a downfall,

Short-term windfalls



How dare we

Indulge in self-deceit,

No self insight

And not expect

The stars to fall

On Alabama?

©Global Situation 2.17.2008
Defiant Doggerel; Our Times, Our Culture;

Arlene Corwin




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